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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884675">for what?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vernonroche/pseuds/vernonroche'>vernonroche</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Psychological Torture, Torture, Whumptober 2020, actually the other way around, i don't even know what to call this, no beta we die like emhyr should, not a pleasant read at all</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:01:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vernonroche/pseuds/vernonroche</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>days 6, 8, 10, 12, 13, 14, and 21 - please... (), where did everybody go? (abandoned), they look so pretty when they bleed (blood loss), i think i've broken something (broken trust), breathe in, breathe out (), is something burning? (branding), and i don't feel so well (hypothermia)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iorveth/Vernon Roche</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a/n: au where iorveth took part in radovid's assassination, set right after they killed him. this is gonna be 2 chapters, 1 from iorveth's pov, 2 from roche's</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Iorveth was not planning on taking part in any more assassinations. He was not planning on working with that conniving sorceress Philippa Eilhart. He was not planning on being on the same side as that filthy dh'oine Vernon Roche. He was not planning on getting drunk with said dh'oine, or kissing him, or putting his hand down his pants, or having some of the most memorable nights of his long Aen Seidhe life. </p><p>     Most of all, he was not planning to fall truly and absolutely in love. In his defence, however, Vernon Roche was everything he was supposed to not be. He wasn't kind, or even good, per se, but he was compassionate, and brave, and he made Iorveth feel the happiness he had convinced himself wasn't even real. He had even been saving his small amounts of money to buy a ring. </p><p>     As his unlikely team walked from Temple Isle, Iorveth felt something that must have been hope. Hope in a free elven state, hope in an end to the wars, hope in a quiet and peaceful life with the man he had come to love.</p><p>     Iorveth, along with anybody who still had their head, did not trust Sigismund Dijkstra. But he needed to take the risk, for his own freedom and that of his people. Maybe this was his last mistake, but Iorveth had escaped certain death before, many times in fact. His main concern, in fact, was Roche. Escape became exponentially more difficult the more people, and he would cut out his other eye before leaving his human. They'd be fine, Iorveth reassured himself. Even with the unexpected arrival of nearly 30 of Dijkstra's friends, they'd be fine. </p><p>     Iorveth wasn't planning on winning that skirmish. He was a good commander, he knew when to surrender, although even an absolute idiot would make the same decision when they saw that Geralt of Rivia, the famous White Wolf, had been disarmed by four heavily armed Redanians. Yes, Iorveth was beginning to feel a bit nervous. Who wouldn't? They were outnumbered 5 to 1, but Roche always had a plan, Iorveth had learned that firsthand. </p><p>     "Wait...", he heard Roche say after they were all kneeling on the stone floor with at least 20 swords pointed at their throats. Iorveth turned to look at the human, but all relief he felt was extinguished as soon as he saw Roche's eyes. They were... Gods, Iorveth didn't even know how to describe it. Even when they hated each other, even when they fought to the death, he had never seen Roche's eyes look so cold and unforgiving. </p><p>"What... what if I give you Temeria? A vassal state, of course. We will help you defeat Nilfgaard, even give you tribute after the North is free." </p><p>"You expect me to believe that horseshit? No deal," Dijkstra said harshly, raising his knife to Roche's throat. </p><p>"You'd do anything for that tree-fucker. I don't want you and your little boyfriend working against me"</p><p>Iorveth should have been angry at the insult, but now he just wanted to know what the fuck Roche was thinking. </p><p>"I'm not going to work with him," Roche said flatly.<br/>
"He's served his purpose to me. The Scoiatael threat is gone, is it not? Temeria's forests are free, I don't need to spend another fucking second with the whoreson."</p><p>Were it not for the stinging of the knife at his throat, Iorveth would have thought he was having some terrible nightmare. Or maybe he was shot during the ambush, and these were cruel hallucinations as he bled to death. </p><p>"How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know this isn't some ploy to get the whole North for yourself and your bloody Temeria?" Dijkstra asked carefully, weighing every word that escaped his tobacco stained mouth. </p><p>"Just look at his face," Roche said, nodding to Iorveth. "I'm good at my job, Dijkstra," he continued. "I know how to get someone's trust. I even know how to make someone think I love them, of course it helps when that someone is a filthy elf who would think a fucking goat loved him if it looked at him the right way."</p><p>     Iorveth was used to controlling his emotions, maintaining a cool facade no matter what. But he couldn't anymore. Maybe it was the realization that he might die that night, or the self hatred for being such an idiot, or, most likely, the pure, unadulterated anguish that came from hearing the man he had dared to love proudly claim it was all a ruse, but Iorveth didn't even try to stop the hot tears streaming down his face. </p><p>    He wanted to talk, to scream, to beg Roche to take it back and take him away from this terrible place. But he couldn't. Every word stuck in his throat like shards of glass. Dijkstra must have noticed Iorveth's state, as he nodded to the guards behind Roche and let him stand up. He walked calmly to where Iorveth knelt, almost like an animal stalking its prey. He squatted in front of the hollow shell that used to be Iorveth and took the narrow chin in his hand, forcing a tear filled forest green eye to look him in the face.<br/>
"Did you really think I could love you? Did you really think anyone could love you?" Roche whispered in Iorveth's ear before shoving him to the ground. The elf couldn't help but notice the sky looked different. There wasn't a single star, a single gleam of light anywhere. It was truly and utterly empty. </p><p>     He was pulled out of this reflection by a large hand on the front of his armor. Iorveth didn't move, he didn't even try. What was the point? Pride? He'd lost that years ago. He'd given a dh'oine everything. He swore to his own people that this one was different, this one could be trusted. And they hated him for it. He'd heard elves too young to know how much Iorveth had sacrificed for them whisper about how he'd gone soft for a human. He'd seen the betrayal in his men's eyes when he told them they would be fighting alongside the Blue Stripes. And Gods, did Iorveth fight against this. He tried, he tried so fucking hard to make them see why he loved this dh'oine. He wanted them to know that his dh'oine was the best thing that ever happened to him, the sole reason he felt joy, the motivation he needed not to slit his wrists and leave the Aen Seidhe to whatever fate the Gods decided for them. Losing that fight against his own people was too much. Hearing his dh'oine confirm all of their terrible suspicions and rumours was too much. Iorveth almost felt relief when he saw Dijkstra raise a knife and point it at his throat. Finally. </p><p>     The pain didn't come. He opened an eye he didn't realize had closed and saw Roche with a hand against Dijkstra's forearm. Iorveth couldn't hear what Roche whispered in Dijkstra's ear, he didn't know what made the Redanian scowl and sheath his dagger. But Iorveth did know he was angry, and not just at himself.<br/>
"You're fucking scared now?" He shouted at Roche.<br/>
"Too much of a coward to finish the job? Or are you too cruel to just fucking let me die?", Iorveth could feel his voice scratching his throat, he could feel the tears fall to his mouth as he screamed, but he couldn't stop. He struggled against Dijkstra's iron grip on his collar, using all the strength he had to reach the one person he had ever loved. </p><p>"Just fucking kill me! Whoreson! Whoreson! Do it! Fucking coward whoreson, kill me!" </p><p>     Iorveth couldn't read Roche's face, he honestly couldn't see much at all as the lack of oxygen from all his screaming began to affect his vision. Roche nodded to Dijkstra, who swiftly turned his knife around and hit Iorveth on the head with the hilt, the last thing the elf saw before the world became black were Roche's favourite boots, the ones Iorveth had bought him last Yule. </p><p>     Iorveth woke up in a small stone room. He had no idea what time it was, the only light was a small candle. Whoever had put him there had stripped all his clothes except for a loose pair of linen pants, which did almost nothing to combat the freezing cold seeping through the cracks in the stone. Iorveth tried to pull his knees to his chest to keep warm, but quickly found his legs were shackled to the wall with a heavy iron chain. Although he did not have the strength for it, Iorveth still tried to free himself. Unfortunately, his clanging caught someone's attention. Dijkstra calmly approached Iorveth's cage with a large set of keys in hand. The Redanian opened the door and looked at his prisoner with calculating black eyes. </p><p>     "I suppose you'd like to know what happened," Dijkstra drawled. Without waiting for a response, he continued.<br/>
"Well, I always knew that son of a whore wasn't a complete waste of breath. See, he gave me more information about your little squirrel operation than I had gathered in a decade. All that, and you of course, in exchange for a partly free Temeria. He's in Tretogor right now, finalizing the deal with some of my heads of state. Until he returns, I'm to extract all possible threats to a free North."</p><p>"I'm not telling you anything," Iorveth croaked. </p><p>"Tsk tsk elf, you're a commander. You should know how quickly that sentiment is followed by all confessions under the sun"</p><p>Dijkstra sighed and continued stared down at Iorveth, who had begun to shiver violently. "Of all the aspects of being in politics, I think I like this the best. My only complaint is that your pathetic little boyfriend said I'm not to kill you. Wants that honour for himself."<br/>
Iorveth had fallen back on the floor, too exhausted to keep his head up. What was the point? Not like Dijkstra would kill him any quicker. </p><p>"You alright, elf?", Dijkstra asked with mock concern before giving a small snorting laugh and turning on his heel, slamming the door behind him.</p><p>     Iorveth pulled his arms around his chest, as if that would help him not absolutely fall apart. He imagined it was Roche holding him, pressing small kisses to his hair whenever Iorveth woke up with a nightmare. He couldn't believe that That Vernon Roche, the one who made him feel safe for the first time in his life, was the same one who sold him out for that pathetic Temeria. He could feel his pulse speed, his stomach twist into knots, the telltale signs of true terror crawling into his chest. Iorveth tried unsuccessfully to calm himself down, growing more and more panicked at the true desolation of his situation. Before realizing what he was doing, he began to hum the song Roche would sing while working. Iorveth felt tears spring to his eyes as soon as he caught himself, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. It didn't feel real. How? How could that beautiful perfect man do this to him? How could a person be so cruel? With these thoughts in his head and Roche's song on his lips, Iorveth let sleep claim him and prayed he would freeze to death before he woke. </p><p>His prayers weren't answered. A loud clang woke him as he saw Dijkstra with a large leather bag on his arm. </p><p>"Now, your little human told me a lot about your elves, but he didn't know everything. That's where you come in. Let's start simple... I'm sure you are aware I assisted Isengrim Faoiltiarna's escape to Zerrikania. I know he's not there anymore. Where is he?"</p><p>Iorveth looked Dijkstra in the eyes, "I don't know," he said. Well, thought he said. Iorveth adored debates, he prided himself on his way of assigning perfect emphasis to every word. That broken voice could not have been his. Dijkstra simply smirked and slowly looked Iorveth up and down. </p><p>"Feeling a little cold, elf? I could swear your lips weren't that blue earlier" Dijkstra asked with mock sincerity before removing a matchbox from the bag, lighting the small fire in the hearth. Iorveth didn't mean to, but he still subconsciously shifted a bit closer to the warmth of the fire, earning a self satisfied snort from Dijkstra. The spy removed an iron fire poker from his bag and placed it gently in the fire, slowly turning it until the end had turned a bright red orange. He slowly removed it, eyeing Iorveth as he blew on the poker, sending small sparks to Iorveth's feet. </p><p>"Where is Isengrim? I won't ask again," Dijkstra snarled. Iorveth simply met the Redanian's cold black eyes, although his chattering teeth severely undermined his serious demeanour. </p><p>"Well, you'll let me know when those lips become a little looser."</p><p>Without a pause, Dijkstra grabbed the chain around Iorveth's ankles, yanking him to the centre of the room. He hovered the red hot piece of iron over Iorveth's chest, letting the elf feel the warmth radiating from the poker before pressing it right below his prisoner's breastbone. For a brief moment, Iorveth didn't even feel the pain, he just smelled the distinct stench of burning flesh and heard the sizzling of hot metal. Then it all hit him at once, the burning so intense it was almost cold. When Dijkstra lifted the poker and placed it back across Iorveth's sternum, he couldn't hold back his scream. It ripped through his throat like broken glass and it burned his lungs but Iorveth couldn't stop. He couldn't stop when Dijkstra put the poker back on the fire and kicked Iorveth so hard in the chest he heard several ribs snap. He couldn't stop when he felt a rusted knife begin slicing at his arms. He only stopped when blood had flooded his mouth and black spots his vision, when he was too weak to surrender anything but "please". Iorveth never begged, not once. But he wasn't Iorveth anymore. He wasn't the saviour of the Aen Seidhe, not the last great Scoiatael commander, not even a proud leader. He was simply a man who had had everything, and then been forced to watch all of it ripped from his arms.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. if i'm good will you come back?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To say Roche was panicking would be an egregious understatement. He could feel his heartbeat in his mouth, he didn't even think before he was making some bargain with Dijkstra. <em>It's okay</em> he thought, <em>I'll just get a jump on him when he looks away, it'll be fine.</em> </p><p><br/>
But Dijkstra saw how he looked at Iorveth, he knew their history. It physically pained Roche to say those horrible things to Iorveth, his beautiful, amazing Iorveth. He couldn't bear the pure anguish in that green eye, but he just had to hold on until he could get out of there. He just had to keep this up for a few more minutes, for himself, for Ves, for Temeria, and, most importantly, for Iorveth. </p><p>As soon as Iorveth was unconscious in some filthy cage, Roche offered to go to Tretogor to gather Dijkstra's men. He knew the Redanian would get even more suspicious if he stayed with the elf, with good reason. Roche wasn't convinced he could keep it up if he had to see Iorveth like <em>that</em>. Tears drying on his thin cheeks, a gash in his perfect lower lip, and Roche could only imagine how Iorveth felt inside. He had spent years trying with all his power to give his elf peace. A home. A place to warm his feet by the fire and let his guard down enough to love. And he succeeded. Iorveth was safe, he was loved, and only to see the one who created that take it all away. </p><p>As Roche practically ran through the streets of Tretogor, he couldn't help but notice the helplessness of his situation. Ves was off to find Geralt, the witcher had escaped as soon as Dijkstra was preoccupied with Iorveth. At least she was doing something. Roche didn't even know what he hoped to find in Tretogor. Time, maybe. Time to let Dijkstra be convinced that he and Iorveth were back to mortal enemies, time for Ves to organize a strike and rescue team. </p><p>Roche was not expecting to be pushed into an ally with a knife poking into his stomach. He really did not expect to see Philippa Eilhart holding that knife. <br/>
"What the fuck a-!"<br/>
"Quiet down! You sound like you're trying to wake the dead", Philippa hissed, clapping a hand over Roche's mouth. She quickly grabbed Roche's arm and hauled him into a small townhouse. <br/>
"What the fuck is happening?!" Roche questioned as soon as Philippa had closed the door. "Why do you have a knife? Isn't that... I dunno.. beneath you sorceresses?"</p><p>"Gods, I knew that witcher preferred friends of low intellect but you are something special", Philippa snapped, earning an offended scoff from Roche. "I'm in hiding. Dijkstra has mages tracking any trace of magic on the bloody continent-"</p><p>"Wait wait, you're hiding? From Dijkstra?! Weren't you two..." Roche tried to find the words, waving his hand in the air and praying Philippa knew what he meant and didn't decide to stab him on the spot. </p><p>"Please, you expect me to support what that ape is doing? My issue with Radovid was purely personal. Of course it didn't help he opposed the Lodge, but do you think Dijkstra will be any better? He doesn't want magic in control, he just wants his damn coin."</p><p>"What do you want from me?"</p><p>Philippa scoffed. "I know you don't want to whore yourself out to Redania, regardless of what you say. Dijkstra doesn't even plan to restore Temeria, at least Emhyr will do that. And then he has Cirilla to take the throne, Dijkstra will leave utter chaos when he dies"</p><p>"You didn't answer my question," Roche pressed. Maybe it was unwise to rush a sorceress, but every moment he waited was another knife in Iorveth's gut. </p><p>"Go back to Novigrad. I know Geralt escaped, I sent some allies his way. They're to help you all get to Toussaint, I'll take care of Dijkstra"</p><p>"Philippa..." Roche sighed. "Can I trust you?"</p><p>The sorceress rolled her new eyes as if it was the stupidest question she'd heard. Roche almost missed that bandana, at least it didn't mock him at every sentence. "Obviously you cannot. But know I have no interest in holding back Temeria, there are several capable mages who would love to return to their positions on her court. I do, however, want Dijkstra gone. You can trust that"</p><p>Roche frowned, but he knew it was the best he was going to get. </p><p>"Ready?" Philippa asked as Roche felt the telltale hum of magic in the air. </p><p>"Thank- ," Roche began before Philippa shoved him through the portal. <em>Damn sorceresses.  </em></p><p> </p><p><br/>
Roche heard the screaming first. He wanted to tell Dijkstra that if he laid a hand on Iorveth he would lose both of his. But Roche knew how that would go; Dijkstra would figure out his plan and kill them both. Fuck. He hoped the Redanian believed he hated Iorveth, that he would want the distinct honour to kill that Scoiatael himself, but Dijkstra might interpret that to mean he could bring Iorveth to the brink of death and just allow Roche to deal the killing blow. </p><p>He started running toward the sound on instinct alone, but was stopped by an iron grip on his arm. </p><p>"Where do you think you're going?" Philippa bit. Roche was used to Iorveth's never ending snark, but Philippa was just on another level. </p><p>"They are hurting him. I hurt him. I can't wait anymore"</p><p>"Gods, can't you think anything through? Dijkstra is there with two dozen thugs. They'll kill you before you make it in the gate. Stand still."<br/>
Philippa pulled a small amulet from her pocket, then threw it on the ground and stomped it with her heel. Immediately, a bright circle appeared on the ground with Geralt, Ves, and another person he didn't recognize. He looked like some kind of herbalist, judging by his bags filled with all kinds of roots and plants. Roche wasn't sure Geralt's thought process on bringing him, he seemed quite old and frail. Well, the more the merrier.  </p><p>"Philippa, Roche, this is Regis", Geralt introduced. The herbalist gave a small nod and smiled with pursed lips. </p><p>"Geralt, you know I appreciate the help...", Roche began. </p><p>"But..?"</p><p>"There's way too many of Dijkstra's thugs in there. There's five of us. <em>Five</em>. Iorveth's life is at stake, I don't want to take that risk" </p><p>"I understand," said Geralt. "But Regis here is more than capable, we'll do everything we can to get him out safely."</p><p>Roche smiled unconvincingly, he wasn't sure how this old, kind looking man was their best asset, but the Gods only knew what would happen to Iorveth if they waited any longer, it had already been over a week. The screams had stopped, and from Roche's extensive experience in interrogations that was never a good sign. </p><p>"Alright, let's go. Ves, cover me. I'm going to get Iorveth. Geralt, Regis, take out the guards. Philippa... Dijkstra's yours." Even with Philippa on their side, her smile made his blood turn to ice. </p><p> </p><p>The initial raid went... surprisingly well. Roche wasn't sure how, but the skinny alchemist managed to help Geralt kill over twenty of Dijkstra's best men. And as he and Ves searched for the jail, Roche only became more and more focused. By time they had reached the heavy iron door, he was practically seeing red. His clothes were soaked in blood, as were all of his swords and knives. If he was injured, he didn't notice. The fear and anger flowing through his veins made him almost numb. With every Redanian that fell, Roche saw Iorveth. He saw that beautiful green eye filled with terror and pain. He saw the thin lips curl into a furious scowl as he begged Roche to kill him. He saw Iorveth's lifeless body, blue with either cold or blood loss as Dijkstra finally decided it wasn't worth it to keep the elf alive. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let his Iorveth die thinking he hated him. </p><p>Roche practically ripped the door from its hinges. He wasn't known for his patience, but right then he felt angrier than he'd ever been. Ves must have noticed, quickly reloading her crossbow and standing to guard the door. Roche felt his stomach drop at the sight. Iorveth was shackled upright against the wall, the rusted metal digging into his skin. His chin was to his chest, and Roche could barely notice the shallow, rapid breaths. The coppery smell of blood mingled with the stench of burnt flesh in the air. Roche barely perceived the six bodies at his feet until he was cleaning his long sword on one of their filthy red uniforms and frantically searching through their pockets for the keys. </p><p>Roche was even more terrified when he saw Iorveth up close. His skin was flushed with a fever, yet his fingers and lips were blue with hypothermia. Nearly all of his chest was covered with infected burns and knife marks, oozing puss and blood over his over protruding ribs. Roche felt like the air had been pushed out of his lungs when he saw Iorveth's hair, or lack thereof. The dark strands he brushed his hair through every night were completely gone, whoever had done this had <em>known</em> the importance of hair to elves. They wanted Iorveth to hurt. </p><p>It took Roche far too long to unlock the shackles, his hands were slippery with blood and shaking badly. A fresh pang of terror hit him as Iorveth fell from the wall, elves were light, but Iorveth was too light. Manoeuvring the unconscious body as carefully as he could, Roche sat on the stone floor and cradled Iorveth to his chest, trying not to panic at the sound of the too quiet heartbeat. Roche moved to look at Iorveth's face, noticing his own tears as they fell onto the flushed skin. One green eye looked at Roche, staring blankly past him before filling with tears. The blue lips slowly parted, revealing teeth covered in blood. </p><p>----------</p><p>"Please... no more. I know you hated me. Don't mock me. Don't hold me. Let me die. Please...", Iorveth begged. Ten days ago he would have said he was too proud to beg. That was a lifetime ago. That was before he lost his whole world, his human.</p><p>----------</p><p>"Oh, Gods Iorveth no... I- I love you. I just needed Dijkstra to trust me, please. I shouldn't have done that to you, I'm so so sorry. Please, hold on just a bit more"</p><p>----------</p><p>Iorveth saw the human's lips moving but couldn't hear anything, it was like he was standing under a waterfall with blankets over his head. But he'd been practicing this speech for days. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew he wanted the best for Vernon, as pathetic as it was. <br/>
"I loved you... Vern— Roche. I know you never loved me but... I loved you. I want to die with you knowing that- that you deserve happiness"</p><p>----------</p><p>Roche kept hearing the broken confession, repeated over and over again through cracked lips. Every time Iorveth started again, his words became more slurred. <br/>
"No, no stop that. I love you. I have always loved you, come on, darling. Stay with me."</p><p>----------</p><p>The earth must have been moving. Maybe this is what it felt like when the Gods picked up a wayward soul to take away. </p><p>----------</p><p>It was probably a bad idea to start shaking someone with that extent of injuries. But he had to do everything in his power to keep Iorveth there, to keep him alive. <br/>
"Ior- Iorveth please. Please, Dijkstra's dead. We're safe, darling. We're safe. I'll take care of you, I'll never leave you again. Just please come back to me."</p><p>----------</p><p><em>Free</em>. </p><p>----------</p><p>"No, no no no look at me, love. Look at me! Hey! Iorveth, darling come on. Breathe, just breathe for me. In and out. In and out. Stay." </p><p>----------</p><p>
  <em>Is this some enchantment? Why's he crying? Wh- that's me! No...</em>
</p><p>----------</p><p>His words were gone. He let the sobs wrack through his body, holding the limp elf like a lifeline. <br/>
"Please... I love you" </p><p>----------</p><p><em>Vernon! Vernon! I love you, I love you, I love you. I'm here! </em>He... he can't hear me...</p><p>----------</p><p>If he closed the eye, maybe he could pretend Iorveth was sleeping. Just for a while. </p><p>----------</p><p>
  <em>don't leave me. you said you wouldn't leave me. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>good grief. sorry for the delay, this one really took all my emotional spoons. but i've done over half of whumptober! i promise november will be a lot less angsty. check out my tumblr for more!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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